Mary: Why I March
The dynamic in my house shifts dramatically when one of our clan is absent.
A 5-yr old goes to his first basketball practice and ninety minutes pass with noticably fewer laughs. A second-grader has a play-date, leaving a downstairs basketball game without a referee. A preschooler attends a birthday party and his brother is without a Star Wars buddy. A little girl naps, and for two hours no one initiates a game of hide-and-seek.
Each kid makes up a piece of our puzzle, the big picture left with a gaping hole without just one.
And that is why I march.
I don’t march because tens of millions of babies could have made a difference in our world over the last forty years. I march because I know for sure that just one of them would have.
I don’t march because I enjoy driving 20 of 48 hours, sleeping four hours on a kindergarten classroom floor, or worrying about keeping track of 14 high schoolers in a crowd of 650,000.
I march because babies are meant to be born.
They are meant to line up Star Wars figures, attend birthday parties, referee each other’s basketball games, and play hide-and-seek.
They are meant to have life. And have it abundantly.
Their lives, all 50 million or even just one, would more fully complete the picture of this great puzzle orchastrated by the Author himself.
And so I march.